Autumn of Sorrow (SYOC)
by Son of Arryn
Summary: Sort of AU, not out of the realm of the possible. All the Houses are still alive. It's 200 years after the end of the Game of Thrones series, and King Aerys III Targaryen sits on the throne. He's ailing, and the country is closer to being thrown into chaos. Will it end in war or a sturdy peace? (Accepting characters SYOC OPEN- Rated T)
1. Prologue: Young Dragon

_**Hello! After a very long hiatus, I'm back and with a new story! I encourage you all to read and submit. First of all, there will be changes to the original series. For example, I'll be pretty much leaving out that houses were destroyed, and leaving out most of the characters as well. Just for the sake of the story. I think it'll be a lot more fun for all of us if we still have all the Houses everyone knows really well. History found below this, followed by the prologue after that. Form is at the bottom of the page and on my profile. 2 people each only to begin with, thank you!**_

 **BACKGROUND**

Two hundred years have passed since the end of the War of the Five Kings. Daenerys Targaryen sat on the Iron Throne until passing it through her bloodline. Now, King Aerys Targaryen III, ironically named as he is one of the few that can keep the nation together, sits on the throne. Bypassing his sisters as wives for the sake of unity, he wed Lady Kyva Arryn. His hand was his greatest friend, Lord Milton Tyrell. Aerys III is old, nearing 80, having sat on the throne for 55 years. His grandson, Aeryn Targaryen, is more brash and less knowledgeable than his grandfather.

Aeryn is handsome, with blonde flowing locks and cryptic purple eyes. A wiry build, many desire his hand for marriage. With only one brother and no sisters to wed, the attention falls to the major ladies of the realm. However, darker things begin to happen as Aerys falls ill.

The Lannisters in Casterly Rock bide their time to make their move either with or against Aeryn. The Starks in Winterfell wish to be left out of the bloodshed this time around, altogether refusing to journey south. The Tullys are on guard against the Greyjoys and Freys, altogether distrustful of them.

 **Prologue – Young Dragon**

The grey-haired matriarch stood in the windy plain, her arms folded across her chest. There was knowledge in them that fit so few. Queen Kyva Arryn seemed to be spending more time in her birthplace than at home as of late. Some suggested displeasure with her marriage, others simply thought that she preferred the Vale to King's Landing. Today, however, neither of those were why she had returned home.

"Lord Stark," The queen said when she heard the pattering of steps, knowing immediately who it was.

"Lady Arryn," The black-haired man replied, a touch of warmth in his voice.

The queen turned around with a slight smile. "Your Queen, you mean?"

Lord Janas Stark had the barest hint of a smile. "I think I know which you prefer, my Lady. My father sends his regards."

A hopeful look crossed the queen's features at the mention of the elder Stark. When she realized he wasn't there, it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "What do you wish to speak about, Lord Stark? It was quite the journey up here."

"Your grandson…" Janas began, his hands folding together. "Well, let's just say most of us houses have severe reservations about his ability to lead us into the future. He has the worst qualities of his House without many of the rewarding features."

The queen let out a little, bitter laugh. "Is that it, Lord Stark? You know as well as I that I cannot control the young prince. That is pure Targaryen there, us Arryns don't control them whatsoever. You should be talking to my husband in King's Landing, rather."

Janas Stark shook his head emphatically. "The old man has a place in his heart for his grandson. No matter what we have said, what we have requested, he has refused to move Aeryn off the prime spot for the throne."

Queen Kyva spoke neutrally. "That is natural, as he is the eldest born, and is young and fit. Perhaps if you want to control the throne, you should offer someone of your family to pair him with, Janas."

Lord Stark again shook his head. "It is not that we worry about the family on the throne, Lady Arryn. We fear what the little one will do once he's on the throne. The King has navigated easily through the nuances in relationships here in Westeros. I do not think that young Aeryn will be able to do so. Blundering through it will only further enrage the already angry houses. There have been whispers of dissent, my Queen."

Her gaze turned piercing. "From where?"

Lord Stark simply watched her with his icy eyes. "Everywhere, my Lady. Few in Westeros will deny that they have thought about it."

The anger in her eyes turned to resolve slowly, her hands wringing at the edge of her skirt. The queen looked at the man in front of her. "What would you have me do? Confront the child? I'd lose all influence I have currently, that I have carefully worked for years to accumulate."

Janas thought for a moment, for his plans were evaporating quickly. "Encourage the prince to look at all prospects equally and without bias. The more he does that, the better chance the rest of us have. Aeryn has no relationships with any of the children of major Houses. My own children fear that he will provoke the North into some sort of action were something to happen. For all of your influence, would you spend it to save our nation?"

Lady Arryn nodded. "Thank you, Lord Stark for your wise counsel. I fear I will have to carry this dark task to its end."

Without another word, Janas Stark turned back north. A small accompaniment of soldiers followed him as protection.

 **A/N: Sorry that was so short! I just really wanted to type up something for you all about the heads of each major house so you'd have somewhere to base your people off of, someone to have established already.**

 _ **Head of House Stark-**_ Lord Janas Stark is the Head of House. Stark, 48, is married to Lady Laerra Stark (Florent). Janas is a dutiful and calm leader. He is known to be a neutral person and to favor peace over war. He altogether refuses to go to King's Landing, viewing it as a city of incessant corruption and a hotbed for war. He refuses to take sides on much, letting people mock him because of it. He is an easygoing person, and often seeks to mediate crises before they happen.

 _ **Head of House Arryn-**_ Lord Ashen Arryn is the Head of House. Arryn, 39, is married to Lady Carlys Arryn (Tyrell). Ashen is often in the middle of fights in King's Landing, seeking to be a mediator and to soothe egos as best as he can. He is widely regarded as one of the most apt leaders in Westeros currently. He has few enemies, only chiefly young Prince Aeryn. He makes frequent visits to King's Landing.

 _ **Head of House Tully-** _Lady Palina Tully is the Head of House. Tully, 51, is married to Lord Elden Tully (Mallister). Lady Tully is a homebody, and is fiercely protective of her family. She is notorious for getting into arguments with the Lannisters, and is one of the chief critics of the King currently. Lady Tully has survived 4 attempts on her life, two by poison and two by physical attacks. She managed to fight off the assassins both times, and twice the poison was not strong enough to kill her. She claims, although people don't know if it is humorously or not, that the King wishes her dead.

 _ **Head of House Baratheon-** _Lord Harden Baratheon is the Head of House. Baratheon, 46, is married to Lady Alis Baratheon (Reed). Harden Baratheon is a stoic figure, and is a close confidant of the King, although never did get the post of Hand of the King. Due to his close proximity to the King, most people go through him if they have a complaint, especially Lords Stark and Greyjoy. If the current Hand would die, most figure that Baratheon would be gifted the title.

 _ **Head of House Targaryen-**_ King Aerys III Targaryen is the Head of House. Aerys III, 82, is married to Queen Kyva Targaryen (Arryn). Widely respected throughout the kingdoms, he is known as a gentle and able leader. He commands the respect of most Houses, and has gone to many lengths to try to preserve it. He did not pass on the kingdom to his son, instead it will fall directly to his grandson, Aeryn. He is critiqued for having not given it to his son, who was seen as a more able leader than the bombastic Aeryn.

 _ **Head of House Martell-**_ Lord Kieran Martell is the Head of House. Martell, 42, is married to Lady Aranna Martell (Redwyne). Kieran is known as a womanizer with one of the highest number of bastards in Westeros at the current time. He is disliked by the Tyrells for numerous reasons, but one is because of his disrespect of his wife, who is close to the Tyrells. He is the current Hand of the King. He was wise in his younger years, but is now regarded as in the way of Lord Baratheon.

 _ **Head of House Tyrell-** _Lady Celia Tyrell is the Head of House. Lord Benam Tyrell (Hightower) is her husband. Tyrell, 56, is the current head of Tyrell House. She mourned her brother when he passed away suddenly and without warning. She holds harsh reservations towards the Martells and Lannisters, who she secretly blames for his passing. She was once considered as a prospect for one of the first woman Hand of the King jobs. Her father was the first Hand of the King for Aerys before he passed away.

 _ **Head of House Lannister-**_ Lord Trevyr Lannister is the Head of House. Lannister, 37, is married to Lady Mysa Lannister (Tully). He is more strategic than many, but is known for his fights with Lady Tyrell and Lady Tully. He is known to want more power than he currently has, but no one really knows what he wants. He is cunning and quiet, letting the other Houses squabble while he takes the title of the best conditioned at meetings. Has amicable relations with Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon.

 _ **Head of House Greyjoy-**_ Lord Clarrik Greyjoy is the Head of House. Greyjoy, 35, is married to Lady Evelyne Greyjoy (Blackwood). He is a womanizer as well, but not as bad as Lord Martell. He, like Lord Stark, rarely goes to King's Landing unless it is absolutely necessary. Not much is really known about him, as he is rarely out in public. Some say he wants power, others say he doesn't really need it. Either way, he is well placed to seek more.

 ** _A/N: I prefer characters between the ages of 15-25 so we can have a bit of more tension between them. I love varied characters, but don't make them outside of the realm of what would actually happen. I'm hoping to get another chapter out sometime this weekend. Thanks! I'd love tons of characters, I see use for any I'd get._**

FORM

Full Name:

Titles:

Alias (like the Hound, Mountain, etc.):

Occupation:  
Age:

Sexuality:

Gender:

Appearance (detailed please, not outside of realm of possible):

Background:

Personality (detailed):

Ambition:

Romance (preferred to be yes, but can be no):

Strengths:  
Weaknesses (more than Strengths):

Suggestions for your character (plot-wise):

Weapons:

Opinions of…

King Aerys III:  
Crown Prince Aeryn:

Starks:  
Arryns:

Tullys:  
Greyjoys:

Lannisters:

Tyrells:  
Martells:

Baratheons:

Targaryens:

Extra:

 **Characters I'd like to see: Any children of the main Houses. They'll all be important in their own ways. I'd prefer no Targaryens, but I'd be open to seeing some. I purposefully left the younger generation open for all of you to have. Thank you! Good luck, and if you need help, just ask!**


	2. Chapter 1: Winterfell

_**Chapter 1: Winterfell**_

 _ **POV Lord Asten Stark**_

His black hair whipped in the cold wind of Winterfell. The icy snow was beginning to make a soft layer on the city. In his eyes, it only made it more beautiful. Snow at night was Asten Stark's favorite thing about the North. Even while his father was away in the Eyrie, he would never miss an opportunity to slip away to stand here, on a ledge above the city.

"Asten! Asten!" A high-pitched voice squealed as he heard the eager padding of feet up the stone walkway.

He sighed. So much for peace and quiet. "Yes, little one?" Asten smiled as he saw his bright-eyed younger sibling standing amidst the snow.

He was bouncing on his toes as he looked at his eldest sibling. "There-there…" He devolved into a fit of giggles as Asten swept him up into his arms.

"What?" Asten grinned as he tickled the young child, laughing as the little one attempted to grab his hands.

"There's a man," He giggled as Asten simply let him stay in his arms. "A man, down at the hall. Mommy's occupying him for now but she said you had to come right away."

Asten groaned, his boots creaking with age as he took large steps down the steep pathway. Lights were going off throughout the town, a sign of people turning in before winter got in. The solemn keep that was the Stark's household was very different than anywhere else in the world. Asten had been to Dorne, Casterly Rock, King's Landing, and even Riverrun, and nowhere was as modest as his home. He liked it that way, for he didn't believe that the Northmen were a people of extravagance.

The guards at the entrance of the hall stepped aside as the acting Lord entered. It was homey, a rich wooden smell filling his nostrils. His mother normally wouldn't allow much firewood to be burned in the winter, figuring it was a waste of money and effort. That allowed him to believe something important was happening that he hadn't heard of yet. He set his brother down, letting him scramble up the stairs to his own room.

Asten ran his hand along the carved oak of the walls, tracing it with a finger. His muscles in his arm tensed as he heard a familiar voice from the dining hall.

"He'll be here shortly, I promise." He heard his mother's lilting voice.

The irritable response came nearly immediately. "What kind of Lord leaves his House at such a moment's notice? Surely even Janas should've known that."

Asten bristled as he entered the room. "Your Highness," He sank down into a bow.

The difference between the two men was readily available. Prince Aeryn was a tall figure, lithe and with glowing purple eyes. The Targaryen in him was able to be noticed as well, even standing a few inches above the already tall Stark. Asten was bulkier and stood broader, the black hair and icy eyes completely different than the future King's.

"Lord Stark," Prince Aeryn responded coolly, gesturing for him to sit across from him.

His mother squeezed her son's arm as she departed the room, letting him deal with the problem that sat before them. An unannounced visit anywhere, particularly Winterfell, was deeply disrespectful. Janas had spent three months in advance letting the Arryns know that he'd be visiting. Lady Tully usually gave the Starks a full year before visiting.

Asten took a seat warily, gripping the edges of the hard wood, his hands badly scarred. "So, what brings you to Winterfell, Prince Aeryn?"

Aeryn didn't seem to gain much of the decorum that his grandfather, or his father for that matter, brought with him. "You wonder why I'd want to go up to a frozen wasteland like here?"

Asten bit his lip so hard he felt the metallic taste of blood come to his mouth. "Not precisely, but yes, the intent is there. Why are you in Winterfell?"

Aeryn stuck his knife into the table suddenly, and left it there as if it wasn't a problem. Lord Stark grimaced, knowing his father would never have stood for something like that in his own company. The prince flashed a wicked smile. "My grandfather will abdicate or die soon. I need to start thinking about the things that go with ruling a nation. That includes titles."

If Aeryn thought that Asten would get the hint simply from that, he was completely wrong. The lord simply stared at the Prince as if he had a hole in his head. "Titles?" Lord Stark took a sip of water.

Prince Aeryn's eyes turned dangerously cold as he stared down Asten. "Hand of the King, Lord Stark. That's what I'm here to offer."

Asten was completely off his guard. He had to stop from spitting out the water and focused hard on swallowing it. "Ha-hand of the King?"

Aeryn snorted. "Don't let it fall off your tongue, Lord Stark. There are plenty of other worthy lords in Westeros that I could choose from. None offer to me what you do. The North is one of the most powerful regions in Westeros, and a title like Hand of the King should fall to someone that wields that kind of power."

Asten didn't know what to say. "I-I can't make a decision right now, Prince Aeryn. I hope you understand that. I-I must talk to my father and others here in Winterfell before I make a final decision. I will send a guard down to alert you when I've made my decision."

"A month," Aeryn stated as he stood up. Asten stood up at the same time as the Prince. "A month is what I give you. A day past and I look elsewhere for a Hand."

As the Prince departed with his company, Asten stood in stunned silence. While most would be jubilant to be offered a position as high as Hand of the King, Asten felt slighted. There were only two reasons one would be offered the title: if there was a weak King, they'd offer it to a strong lord who could shore up support. The same went for the other side, a strong King wanted a weak lord to carry out his various tasks. It was clear that Aeryn fancied himself a strong King, and believed that Asten was a weak lord with much to offer.

The more he thought about it, the more it made his blood boil. The current King was a strong one, which was likely why he chose Lord Martell as his Hand. Kieran Martell was too stupid to realize that it had been more of an insult than an honor.

No siblings, nor his mother came to see him when the Prince had gone. He was left to wallow in his own thoughts as he stayed in the dining hall. Within time, however, there was a second visitor.

"Lord Stark? Is this a bad time?" A voice came from the doorway.

"Oh! Not at all, Lady Celia," Asten had forgotten that she had planned a visit at all. "What do I owe to the pleasure of Lady Tyrell?"

The lady swept into the room, carrying a confident air with her. It felt like the springtime had been carried with her from the Reach. "I happened into a character on my way here." Her voice was soft and gentle, but he knew that it hid deeper meanings beneath.

"The Prince did make a visit to Winterfell. Unannounced, I may add," Asten replied as she slid into a seat beside him.

"What did the Prince want to come all the way up to Winterfell for? No offense, my Lord, but it simply is a very far journey. This is my first time up here in years and years. Your mother…where is she?"

Lady Tyrell and his mother had always been close. Lady Laerra had been a Florent, which was far closer to the Reach than to the North. He debated telling her that he'd been offered the Hand of the King, but he knew that her son, Lord Rewyn, desired it more than anything.

"He wanted my assurance that I'd still stay on as Lord in the North." It was a clumsy and bad lie, and he could tell Lady Tyrell knew it.

The way her lips quirked downwards, he could tell that she was already trying to deduce exactly what he'd lied about. "I'm sure you said yes?"

"Of course, Lady Tyrell. I'm sure Rewyn will make a wonderful Lord of the Reach as well. He was of course welcome to come up to Winterfell. Is he on business?" Stark asked casually.

"As a matter of fact," Lady Tyrell nodded. "Making a trip of the South. Going to Dorne, Storm's End, and ending up in King's Landing. I assume he's finished in Dorne by now."

Asten nodded, relieved as his mother came into the room. They embraced and chatted for a while, Asten only listening a bit. When they disappeared upstairs, he was glad to be left to his thoughts again. He was growing more confident that the best advice would be given from his father upon his return to Winterfell.

 _ **A/N: I wanted to get out a chapter for y'all before the weekend ended for me! There is still plenty of space to submit. Lord Stark is my own character, as well as pretty much everyone used in this chapter. Next chapter will be the time when some start getting introduced. I've decided to cut the idea of limiting characters, because…well…this is GoT! Lots of people will die! So, submit to your hearts' content! It is still open! Thank you! (Let me know your characters' thoughts on Lord Stark in the reviews! Any elaboration would be great!)**_


	3. Chapter 2: Tragedy

_**Chapter 2: Tragedy**_

 ** _Two Weeks After Ch. 1: Winterfell_**

 ** _Location - King's Landing, Westeros_**

 ** _POV Lady Celesse Martell_**

The unthinkable had happened. The day they'd all been dreading had finally arrived. That morning, a sunny morning, in King's Landing, King Aerys had passed away. The prince had just returned from a trip to Winterfell, and the following morning, the prince would be King.

Things moved quickly after that. She ran from her room in the outskirts of King's Landing to where her father's study was, near the palace.

Lady Martell was a beautiful sight, with flowing black locks that framed her exotic, tanned face. She seemed very out of place with the normal folk of Westeros, marking her as one of Dorne. Her fingers rapped lightly on the door of her father's room.

The door swung open, and her father waved to her jovially from his place sitting at his desk, scribbling down notes on a piece of parchment. He had the same hair as her, but quite a bit shorter, hanging at nearly his neck. His iridescent green eyes grabbed hers instantly, and looked at her knowingly.

"My daughter," Kieran Martell said, getting to his feet. "The time has come."

She gave the slightest nod, her fingers grasping one of the papers. "Resignation?" She said lightly.

"I had to," Lord Martell replied crisply. "If I hadn't, I would be dismissed when he wants to appoint the newest Hand. I'm sparing myself the embarrassment. Oh well. It's been past time to return home."

Celesse nodded again, reading off the paper. "Seems good. When will my sibling arrive?"

"Neither of your siblings will be coming to King's Landing. Not immediately, at least. I've heard word from some of my confidants close to the Prince that he's planning to ratchet up the speed on the whole operation." Her father sighed, rubbing his handsome face.

Celesse fingered her orange dress, nervous. Everything was happening so fast, all at once. Her mind spun, wondering where she fit into all of this. Meetings would need to be arranged, with the new King, with other Lords and Ladies, with her father, with staff in King's Landing. "What is your plan? What is he saying?" She asked finally.

"You've probably known this for a while, but I plan on relinquishing my role as Head of Martell House. You will take up the role, for now in King's Landing. The coronation is scheduled for a week from now. You will represent our family there. The King expects every House to be represented, and if we aren't, he'll be very angry."  
Celesse looked at her father, speechless. She hadn't been expecting to be named the Lady of Martell at all. Her brother had been expecting that for years. Sure, she expected to lead in King's Landing, but not in Sunspear. "I've heard rumors, father, if you wouldn't mind indulging me. I've heard that the King wants Lord Asten Stark to serve as Hand of the King. What have you heard? Anything on who will become Queen?"

Kieran had crossed to the door, a sword at his belt. "Two weeks after the coronation, he plans to name the finalists for Hand of the King, in front of all the Lords and Ladies. The week following, he will announce his decision. Be careful, my daughter. As for the title of Queen…no one knows. Aeryn hasn't let that known to me."

Celesse hugged her father tightly, determination in her eyes as she looked up at him. "I won't let you down."

Kieran let out a booming laugh, ruffling her perfectly crafted hair. "I know you won't, daughter. Remember: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken." Within seconds, he had left, paper in his hand.

Celesse couldn't get one thought out of her mind: her father had left kids behind as well. Ladies in King's Landing had nursed Lord Martell's numerous bastards. She'd never be truly at ease in the city, as there were plenty to be ashamed of. Her father had sullied their house's name before everyone, and didn't seem to much care for it. She was determined to turn that around, and demand respect from everyone.

She stayed in her father's study for the duration of the day. It was calming, to watch out the window and see the sea rocking towards the Keep. She sketched a vision of it in one of the numerous notebooks strewn about the room. Morning settled into afternoon. Afternoon gave way to dusk. Dusk yielded to the night. She had spent the entirety of her day there, and was planning to leave. A knock startled her out of her daze.

"Coming!" Lady Martell called, getting to her feet and stopping short of the door. She peered out the keyhole.

Her expression soured immediately. Few she had expected to visit her at this time of day, but Lady Lannister was always unpredictable. With a few deep breaths, Celesse opened the door.

"Hello," Celesse forced a smile, looking up at the tall Lannister. Alysanne was nearly a foot taller than the Martell, despite being nearly four years her junior. "What brings you here, Lannister?"

Alysanne glided into the room without the permission of Celesse. Knowing it irked the southerner, she hid a small smile. "I would like to congratulate you on your title of Lady of Dorne. We girls should stick together, you know."

"H-how?" Celesse whispered, not knowing her father had told anyone about giving way to her.

"I have my ways," Lady Lannister said. "Your father was at the palace. I figured as such. Lucky guess, I suppose."

The rivalry between the two women was well documented in King's Landing. As two of the five most well positioned to become Queen, they were viewed as bitter enemies. It didn't help Celesse that no Dornish guards were with her. "Well, thank you. If that's all, I would gladly escort you back to Red Keep."

"Not…exactly." Alysanne pondered as she took part of the bedsheet in her hand, combing it through her finger. "Surely you must be happy to have had relieved someone like your father."

Celesse's blood boiled. She had no qualms about how her father conducted his business, but for a _Lannister_ to tell her about it, was much too far for her. "Mind your tongue," Celesse snapped before she could stop it from falling out her mouth. "He is still Hand of the King."

Anger simmered to the top of Alysanne's eyes, before it quickly faded. "For now," She said lightly. "And you are right, that is not why I am here. You know the title of Queen is wide open. I merely ask for fair play between all sides in the game."

Celesse crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the Lannister in shock. Fair play? When had the Lannisters ever played fair? "House Martell plays fair. I suppose, if you are offering your own house to do the same, I would gladly accept it."

Alysanne let out a little chuckle as she strode past the Martell. "A fiery one, for sure. I'm not sure if the Prince likes someone who will defy him as such. Good luck, Lady Martell. I'm sure you'll represent yourself _just_ fine."

As she left the room, Celesse slammed her fist into the bed, cursing her father for everything he'd done. Little did she know; Lady Lannister had been making the rounds the whole day. Lady Stark, Lady Tyrell, Lady Baratheon and her had all received visits from one Lannister or another. The game was on.

. . .

 _ **Two Days Later**_

 _ **Red Keep, King's Landing**_

The Prince had assembled a dinner, largely regarded as a test for those who wanted to serve as Queen. He had played with them all at some point in time, and had done so with the seeting of the dinner as well. At his right was Lady Lannister, but to his left Lady Stark. Celesse Martell was to the side of Lady Stark, while Tyrell was on the other side of Lady Lannister. Lady Keila Arryn sat across from the King. Other minor ladies as well framed the sides of Lady Arryn, but weren't regarded as true threats to the Crown for any of them.

The dinner went fairly well for most. Secrets, of course, about the dinner, swirled in King's Landing for days on end after that. The coronation was coming up, and some were hopeful that the Queen would be chosen at the same time. Few expected it though.

However, one part of the dinner caught many peoples' eyes, and sent fear into the hearts of others. Just as Lady Arryn was about to drink from her glass, a minor lady to her left, perhaps Lady Mormont, asked her for a drink, as she had completely finished her own, and was thirsty. Being the lady she was, Keila handed over her glass.

For a few minutes, the dinner went on as normal, Lady Arryn forgetting her own parched throat as she ate more of the delicious food. Noises were heard beside her, and a clunk was heard. Alarmed, she turned in her chair, seeing Lady Mormont falling to the ground. The King got to his feet immediately, rushing to her side. He felt for a pulse. None was found.

The ladies, shocked and confused, scattered from the dinner quickly. One thing was for sure – someone had intended to kill Lady Arryn. No one knew who could've spiked the glass. Rumors spread that one of the other ladies had attempted to kill her. Few suspected a major Lady, for they weren't fearful of Lady Arryn being selected. Interrogations went on for a day, but no one figured it out. Now, with the coronation approaching, it seemed it would be impossible.

 _ **Thank you all for all of your submissions! Even if it isn't listed on the profile (I've gotten lazy), you're likely in. I still would love more! Even if you have submitted someone, I would love ladies from Tyrell, Stark, or Baratheon (preferably the first two, the third is on the way). I would love there to be siblings for many of those submitted, so doubling up on major houses would be good. Lords from Martell, Baratheon (have 1, but another would be good), Tyrell (same thing), Lannister (same), and Tully would be great too! (The 2 submissions only rule is gone now! Submit to your hearts' content!)**_


	4. Chapter 3: Leaves and Lions

_**The Same Day as Ch.2-Winterfell**_

 _ **Highgarden, the Reach**_

 _ **Seat of House Tyrell**_

 _ **POV Margarette Tyrell**_

The light was still flooding in from the still-risen sun over the Reach. Highgarden was the most beautiful at dusk, however her mother always insisted on the family being present at dinner. This was no exception, though, she wished she wouldn't have been there. The day after, she and her brother, Rewyn were scheduled to leave for King's Landing, for the coronation. Hopefully, her own coronation would follow shortly after that.

Prince Aeryn was…problematic, to say the least. He didn't want someone who would disagree with him, and she had plenty of reasons to disagree. However, if she could keep those at bay – "Margarette!" Celia Tyrell snapped, her green eyes flicking to her daughter.

"What mother?" Margarette asked politely, her hands clasped in her lap.

"Stop spacing off, it's unladylike," Lady Tyrell said, choosing to ignore her son who had his boots on the table. Margarette bit her lip to stop a flood of protests from leaving her lips.

Instead, Margarette chose to twirl a leaf between her fingers while the servants brought out the dinner. She eyed a table at the side of the hall. The vacant table at the side of the room was possibly the proudest thing in the entire house. Many Lords and Ladies, nearly every one, had at least one bastard. Celia Tyrell, however, fiercely hated the idea of it, and never had a child out of wedlock. Not that there weren't stories of course, particularly with the King. Lady Arryn was said to not be particularly fond of her.

Celia gave the prayers for the meal and blessed it before they were permitted to eat. Rabbit's food, the other houses claimed, when they came to Highgarden. Margarette largely agreed, whereas her brother hated the notion. Rewyn loved his home more than anyone else, but seemed to want to leave more than anyone at the same time.

Margarette watched her brother carefully. His light blonde hair fell loosely onto his shoulders, strong, flexible shoulders moving as he ate. His emerald green eyes flickered with laughter and lightness as he flecked a pea at their father's soup. He regarded himself as something of a fashion icon in Highgarden, decked out in mostly natural clothes, with leafy boots on his feet. A rose was pinned on the lapel of his suit.

Nearly every lady in Westeros would love to have Lord Tyrell named as her husband. Much to the chagrin of their mother, and the ladies, he didn't seem to have a particular interest in any single one. Really, he didn't have any particular interest in a single gender, either. Not that he didn't have his excursions, that he definitely did, he didn't seem to settle down with anyone.

Margarette was different. She desired to bring joy and grace to her house, to marry the highest up she could – the King. If she could do that, House Tyrell would be at the top again, displacing the Arryns and Lannisters from their perches.

"Margarette!" Celia snapped. "Did you flick that pea at your father?" Benam Tyrell didn't seem to be affected much, calmly eating his food compared to his feisty wife.

Rewyn's green eyes met hers and pleaded with her to accept the blame. He should know better by now. "No, of course not mother." She proceeded to chew out her eldest son, Rewyn shrinking from her criticisms.

The massive doors at the head of the hall suddenly shut. Celia got up, heading over to the doors. "What is the matter, General?" She asked her head of staff.

Margarette couldn't piece together what was said, but she could tell it was something more dangerous than her mother had thought by her quieter, hushed voice. Rewyn rose from his seat, hurrying to grab his bow from the wall. It was much too late. The doors of Highgarden busted open, and a single rider on a horse stood there.

She couldn't get a good look before guards pushed her to the ground, shielding her from his sight. What she could tell, was he was on a black horse, decked in black armor. He raised a solitary arrow, aimed at somewhere she couldn't see because of the mess of armor in front of her. When it flew from their bow, the shriek that followed confirmed her worst fears – Lady Tyrell had been targeted.

Margarette could see her brother launch over the table as the rider attempted to flee. Within a minute, the guards righted her and she saw a chestnut horse with Lord Tyrell racing after the faceless rider.

"Mom!" Margarette rushed to her side, running from her spot at the table. "Mom!" She fell to her side, trying to staunch the bleeding that was coming from her side.

Celia Tyrell's eyes locked onto her daughter's face with curious intensity. "Highgarden…Highgarden must be protected. You know this. You – you and your brother, must protect this House. Find out who did this. Be careful, for the pieces are in motion."

Margarette had tears streaming down her face, only dully feeling them when they fell with a splash onto her hand. "No – no, you'll live, mom, just wait, the maesters will be here soon."

Celia painfully shook her head, blood leaking from one side of her mouth. "Protect your brother." Her last words left her breast, and she sunk to the ground.

Only the guards near them heard the scream that wrenched itself from her chest, her once immaculate dress coated with blood. Rewyn was away, her father had been hauled by guards and was in shell shock. Now…she was Lady Regent of the Reach. This couldn't affect her passion, her desire to become the Queen of all of Westeros. If anything, it should intensify it. However, doubts crept in her mind.

"Lord Hightower," She said dully when another rider arrived at the fortress, two hours after Rewyn had left Highgarden. Her bannerman nodded to her and sat down across from the small table in the dark.

"I'm sorry for your loss, my Lady. I came as soon as the word reached. I rode as hard as I could, but I didn't see any sign of the rider or your brother. I can, however, help you try to figure out who this is. I am determined it was a sell sword."

"A mere sell sword?" Her voice shook even though she didn't mean it to. "A sell sword killed the great Lady of the Reach? Who can afford to buy a sell sword with that much money?"

Ramsay Hightower's face was unreadable. "There are a few in Westeros that could throw that amount of money around fairly easily. It's easy enough to suspect this is the same person who wanted to harm the Arryns."

"Lannisters," She spat. "Martells. Baratheons. The King. Starks."

Hightower bit his lip and gave a slight nod. "Any and all of them, yes. Along with a few others. Less likely, but still capable. The Iron Bank of Braavos. Myr. Pentos. Qohor. Volantis. Arryns, Tullys, even the Boltons up in the North. All less likely than those you named, but the suspects, there are too many to narrow down with no body."

She smirked cruelly. "Rewyn will get that for us."

Lord Hightower nodded for another time. "Will you be going to King's Landing for coronation? Who…who can lead Highgarden besides you at this time?"

"You." She said simply as she stood up. "You will be regent while I'm gone, along with my father of course. If you can advise them well, consider it an audition for greater opportunities at a later time, Ramsay."

His youthful face gleamed with promise, and she knew he would make a useful ally. She left him, and went to the stables. Knights joined her, to escort her to King's Landing. She couldn't stay for her mother's funeral. She knew, in a way, Celia Tyrell would've understood that. House over anyone. What Margarette needed to do for the Tyrells was greater than anything she could do staying at Highgarden. Particularly if that included seducing the King.

 _ **. . .**_

 _ **T** ** _wo_ Days Later**_

 _ **Casterly Rock, The Westerlands**_

 _ **Seat of House Lannister**_

POV Leone Lannister

His raspy breathing echoed through his lungs, and felt like it was alerting the whole city that the Lannister knight was out on the streets. When his sister was away, he would go outside and into the city, and luckily for him, this was one of those days. His brothers and other siblings didn't really mind what Leone did in the city, as he was the baby of the family, he wasn't at the forefront of their minds. For that, he was glad.

It was nighttime, and therefore, the second visit he'd made to the city that day. When his sister was in town, he went once a week. When she wasn't, he'd go twice a day. Tonight, felt different to poor Leone, who was gripping his chest and hoping that the illness wouldn't take him tonight, for he had much other plans.

Through the silence of the night, a horse brayed loudly, piercing the silence and a crashing noise was heard from the street just next to him. The street where he'd need to turn if he were to make it on time. Leone poked his head to the side, and saw a man towering over another.

He listened to them with a soft ear.

"Who are you?" A melodious but harsh voice came out. A garbled response came from whoever had the sword pointed at their throat.

"Who pays you?" The voice said again, and he couldn't make out a response, if there even was one. Leone pulled a sword from his scabbard, his chest wincing at the movements.

The sound of a sword being run through someone was heard next, Leone grimacing as he heard something clatter to the ground. The man scurried off in the direction that Leone would be going next. He followed, going to the body that now laid lifelessly on the ground. A pendant of some sort was the noise he'd heard, a shiny leaf one, sitting on the ground. He picked it up and stashed it in his pocket.

Even though Leone didn't plan to confront the knight, he'd use the ruse of having found the pendant to get him to learn who it was. He hurried after the man. To his surprise – the man was going exactly where Leone had planned to go. The brothel.

It was a covert brothel, that was fairly well hidden in Casterly Rock. A rundown building, but brimming with life inside. Leone only went here when he felt it was absolutely safe, swinging open one of the doors hurriedly.

Dim lights lit the entire building, the soft yellow kind that oozed privacy. Normally when he went here, his heart pounded with vibrancy, but now, his mind had control, wanting to find out who had done it. His eyes fixed upon a man that stood at the bar, with brilliant blonde hair and a nice, sturdy build. If he hadn't known better, Leone might have considered taking him home for the night.

He strode up to the man, and took a seat at his right. "I found this on the street," He took the pendant out of his pocket, setting it on the bar in front of him. "I saw you heading here so I wanted to give it back."

Emerald green eyes met his own, fixed on his, as if assessing what Leone might know. He decided against whatever the bad option had been, and a brilliant smile seized his face. "Ah! Thank you, good man," Something clicked in Leone's mind, immediately placing the man.

Rewyn Tyrell. The emerald eyes, the easy-going smile, the blonde hair. The ability to turn from cold-hearted murderer to smooth lover in seconds. Ah yes, it only applied to one person that he knew that well. However, luckily, the man from the Reach hadn't placed him. Pretty much everyone else had placed Rewyn, though.

Men and women gathered around the lord, rubbing their hands all over him. Leone looked disgusted, turning away, looking for the one he was there to see.

He finally caught the eye of the man he wanted, but his heart turned to ice. Jonthor, a hooker from the brothel, knew that Leone came to see him on a regular basis. However, his hand was sliding down the front of the Lord Tyrell's shirt. His eyes turned to anger when he was scooped up by Rewyn himself.

"This one!" He roared and the whole room cheered, absent Leone himself, of course.

Leone got up to leave the room while the rest of the room chatted about having one of the greatest lords in Westeros in Casterly Rock, besides their Lannister hosts. His face was gloomy, rubbing his toe against the floor, cursing himself when the Tyrell and his prize came towards them. He couldn't look them in the face, praying they wouldn't notice him.

"My little lion," Jonthor's honeyed voice murmured, his fingers tracing Leone's cheekbone.

"What did you say?" Rewyn's voice echoed, his eyes snapping to Leone.

"This is my most frequent customer, my Lord," The escort said, tracing Leone's cheek, causing him to blush. "My own little lion."

What had clicked earlier for Leone certainly was coming into place in Rewyn's own mind. "Lion…ah! Little Leone Lannister!" A brilliant smile fell across that handsome face of his, much to Leone's dislike.

"I never knew Lord Tyrell preferred the company of men," Leone snapped, getting more defensive by the second.

"I knew Lord Lannister did," Rewyn said with an air that made him seem above all the trickery. "And I don't prefer men, by any stretch. Whatever piques my fancy on any particular night suffices."

Leone glanced at the Lord Tyrell, who was certainly enjoying it. "You really don't prefer either?" He wondered at the amazement of it all.

Rewyn smirked. "No, not at all. Perhaps the little cub would want to warm my bed sometime while I'm here. Tomorrow night, I'm staying at your place."

Leone's cheeks burned and shook his head enthusiastically while he thought of a retort. He didn't think of one fast enough, and Lord Tyrell placed a glowing kiss on his cheek. Leone hunched away from him, Rewyn chuckling as he led Jonthor out of the brothel.

Disappointed, Leone slunk to the floor, gripping his hands in his hair while his chest rattled. Never would he have stood for that if it hadn't been in a public place as that. Still, the thought intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

 _ **A/N: Thank you all for reading! This was a bit of a late night update, so I hope y'all still get it tonight. I'm cutting off submissions for houses as they are given a main chapter (barring Starks, Martells, Lannisters, and Tyrells). Tyrells and Lannisters both still lack some key characters, so I'm leaving those open for the time being. I have a schedule of which houses are to be next, and as each is posted, those houses will no longer accept applicants. Thank you to all who have submitted thus far, and hope you liked this one. Rewyn, Leone, Margarette and Ramsay were all submitted, so thank you to those people as well!**_

Next update schedule-

TODAY: Tyrells/Lannisters

Starks+Baratheons

Arryns+Tullys (And Freys)

Martells+Greyjoys


	5. Chapter 4: Stags and Snow

_**A/N: Thank you to all who have submitted. Spots are still open, though now I wish for people to PM me at the outset to see what we still need. Thank you.**_

 _ **Chapter 4: Stags and Snow**_

 _ **The Same Day as Chapter 3 in Casterly Rock**_

 _ **Winterfell, The North**_

 _ **Seat of House Stark**_

 _ **POV Lady Astris Baratheon**_

Her hair flowed behind her in the crisp, cool breeze. The ride was pleasant, though she wished they would've stopped halfway in somewhere twice as warm as the place they were going. Her brother, Lord Kenric Baratheon, heir to Storm's End, loved travelling north to meet with the Starks. He'd been fostered there for years, from when he was 6 to when he was 14. She herself had been fostered in Highgarden, with the Tyrells. It hadn't changed her perception much, but she feared her brother was greatly impacted by his time in Winterfell.

Rarely did she join him on one of his treks north, but now that Aerys was dead, she believed allies were necessary. The Starks seemed to be the ones closest to forming an alliance with them. Guards swirled around the Lord and Lady as they went, as they always do. She caught her brother more than once gazing out towards the woods as they crossed towards the Twins.

House Frey was interesting, to say the least. Upon their arrival, they saw a wispy woman standing out at a tower. Astris gazed up at her for a long while, being able to tell that it was the new lady in the Twins. She doubted she wanted to stay.

The Lord Frey, an elderly, gross man, demanded they pay for passage into the north. Astris bit her tongue. "Lord Frey, we are the Baratheons of Storm's End. We are going to see the Starks and we don't want an unneeded delay here in the Twins."

He shook his head greatly. "Pay up, it is customary."

Lady Baratheon seethed. He asked for too great a price for a simple crossing of a river. She stood her ground. "Twenty coins less and I will pay it."

"Ten."

"Fifteen."

"Twelve."

"Seventeen." Lady Baratheon raised an eyebrow. He accepted.

She forked over her money, and the massive drawbridge fell. The Baratheons were granted entry. Her brother was interested in watching the scenery as they went, but Lady Astris was afraid of the massive bogs as they travelled through.

"Don't worry, my Lady," A guard said. "The Reeds keep track of these lands well enough. They're quite a deal friendlier than the Freys."

Astris gave a subtle nod as they kept going. It was nighttime by the time they saw some glittering lights of Winterfell in the distance. Kenric was excited, leading his horse out ahead of the rest of them.

"Brother!" Astris said sharply, a guilty look crossing his face as he slowed his horse down. "Good."

They rode into Winterfell in the dead of night, but the town was hardly still. People were still lightly milling about their business, barely looking up as the heavily armored southerners entered the city. Certainly not enough to be considered an invading force, they likely didn't mind it. The seat of House Stark was certainly much more appealing to Kenric than Storm's End, who hated the near endless storms that raged on there.

When they neared the massive castle that the Starks stayed in, Astris had to admit she was impressed. The massive stone walls seemed to tower over them as they headed inside. The courtyard was beautiful, with trees dotting the surrounding areas. It was no wonder her brother liked it there. Even she could probably find a reason to stay.

Ahead of them, near the entrance of the complex, were the Stark children. There were exactly four: Asten, Elizabeth, Aleister, and Dylan, in that order. Kenric, nearly three years younger than the youngest Stark, dropped his composure and rushed over to meet them.

Astris couldn't help a fond smile as the normally stoic Starks enfolded them close, treating him as one of their own. However, they weren't going to be up here just for hugs and smiles. No, the niceties would have to be dropped quickly if the business were to be done. She dismounted her horse, telling one of the stewards to put it in the stables.

She strode over to the Starks and Kenric, wrapping her arms around herself as the chill of the breeze got to her worse than ever. Her expression was unreadable as she followed them in at the invitation of the eldest Stark.

They took seats near a fireplace in nice, comfy chairs. She was surprised at how warm it was inside the castle, having imagined that it was just as cold as the outside. She sat beside her brother on a sofa as the four Starks sat in separate chairs.

"Welcome to Winterfell," said the one that looked quite younger than some of the others, with pale white hair falling over his head in quite a mess.

"Thank you," Astris replied, setting her palms on her lap, knowing it was customary for Kenric to take the lead, but he had relatively no interest in doing so.

Kenric did take the lead for a bit, beginning to talk. "As you know, coronation is in less than a week. I figure we will be leaving at roughly the same time as you all. I have had the…pleasure of speaking to King Aeryn's mother the other day, and how he will respect Storm's End's loyalty to the Crown and take it in stride. However, Astris has uncovered some differing information, sister?"

The eldest brother, Asten, and his two brothers looked intrigued. Their sister sat unreadable, but seemed to be bored with what they were saying. Astris shook it off, looking at the brothers instead.

"Thanks to Lord Tyrell, I've been notified that they think the choice for Hand is down to but a few. We all know here that little Kenric won't get it," She paused to embrace her brother, knowing he was just too young. "So House Baratheon doesn't have a foot in the game. House Stark is different, I am told. The King made a journey up here shortly before his grandfather's death."

The boy with the raven hair, Aleister, she believed, spoke after. "The King did arrive. He spoke with Asten, and left afterward." He didn't seem to be a man of many words.

Asten gave a short nod, having well-trimmed black hair that fell neatly to his shoulders. "The King did ask for me to serve as the Hand."

Kenric looked excited, bouncing up and down, and only when her hand gripped his shoulder did he stop. He didn't seem to understand that he represented their House, even when talking with friends. He glanced back at her, confused.

"Well?" Astris asked. "What did you say?"

Asten looked at Lady Baratheon with a certain puzzlement, as if he didn't expect her to speak much. "I said I was considering it. I ended up…deciding against it."

Kenric deflated, and Astris did as well. She could've relied on the Starks for support in King's Landing, now she would either have to marry the King or find out who was. The Martells served the best after that, as well as the Tyrells. Her trip to Winterfell had been, as she expected, a waste.

"You – you said no?" Kenric asked finally.

Asten nodded shortly. "Starks are not well suited for the games they play down south. I wouldn't survive a year in that city. I've heard rumors as well…Lord Reed informed me the other day of his finalists."

Astris sat up further, curiously intrigued. "How many?"

Aleister butted in. "Three for Hand. More for Queen."

Dylan, the youngest, with the snow-white hair elaborated. "Lord Kivan Lannister, Lord Oliver Martell, and Lord Augustus Tully."

"Lannister, Martell, Tully," Astris repeated, thinking it through. "Which do you think it will be?"

"My bet is on Martell," Dylan said, combing his hand through his hair. "Lannister's sister is the favorite for the Queen, so I doubt he'd make the stupid decision to name her brother as Hand. Tully is a good man, but, I fear Lord Aeryn doesn't want good men in King's Landing."

Asten looked at Lady Baratheon. "I would much prefer it if Lord Tully would be the Hand, but it doesn't seem like it will end up that way. I assume he's fostering the seeds to say he might pick Augustus just to make people's opinions of him better. I was surprised, though, at the inclusion of Lord Lannister. It means the pick for Queen isn't quite as decided as Casterly Rock would like to think it is."

Astris was intrigued, sitting up to listen to the eldest Stark. "Who for the Queen?"

"Why, of course, you, my Lady," Dylan said, resuming his list from earlier. "Lady Alysanne Lannister. Lady Celesse Martell. Lady Margarette Tyrell. Four, I suppose. Arryn had a shot, but ended up wasting it at the dinner by nearly being killed." He let out a short, bitter laugh.

Kenric seemed uninterested as the conversation grew political. He left the room along with the Stark sister. Astris could tell they went outside by the draft of cold that hit her back.

Astris made a mental note of who to visit with at King's Landing – Martell, Tyrell, Tully. Lannisters and Baratheons had been on some not-so great relations as of recently. Kenric had declined to go for Lady Tyleen's celebration of birth the year previous, and promptly didn't invite them to his own the following month. It was a foreseeable event, but no matter what Astris or her parents said, he refused to apologize for it.

"When do you go to King's Landing?" Astris asked, wondering in her head if it would be better to show up with the Starks, or on her own.

"We plan to arrive the day before the coronation," Aleister said. "Not anytime more. Only Asten and Dylan plan to go. I dislike the city, as does Elizabeth. We'll stay here in Winterfell."

Astris stood up to retire to her chambers. She figured it'd been a productive day – at least in the fact that they seemed to like her more than she'd been led to believe by her brother. Their willingness to share information was good as well. She'd always known that she was a possibility for Queen, however, she was unsure she desired it. Certainly, she didn't desire the King.

She took her hair out of her braid, staring outside the windows. Change was coming, and coming faster than she had anticipated. While Winterfell was a pleasant, and presumably safe place, she felt as though she were being watched for her every move. It would only get worse once she arrived in King's Landing.

 _ **A/N: Thank you all for your support! I don't know if I'm able to get another chapter up this weekend, but we'll see. I think I should have one early next week if I am unable to on Sunday. I would love to see some more reviews, particularly on what characters think of those that have been mentioned.**_


	6. Chapter 5: Rivers and Rocks

_**Chapter 5: Rivers and Rocks**_

 _ **Four Days Before King Aeryn's Coronation**_

 _ **Riverrun, the Riverlands**_

 _ **Seat of House Tully**_

 _ **POV Mycal Stone**_

He was an accident. Lord Arryn had never meant to birth Mycal, and had pretended he hadn't as soon as he were born. His elder sister, Keila, had always been different. They'd adventure together, make things together, and sometimes, travel together. This was one of those times.

Mycal had grown up in the Vale for his years, and upon his 16thbirthday had become a Knight of the Vale – giving him the ability to travel with his sister as one of her defenders. Today they were travelling to her favorite place – Riverrun. The Tullys had always seemed like family to Keila and Mycal, well, he supposed they felt like family to everyone.

The sibling duo of Tully was one of practicality, and experience. Airis Tully took care of most of the relationships with the other houses, while her elder sibling, Augustus, largely dealt with the Crown and with the defense of the Riverlands. Regions had been shifting, forming alliances, ever since Aeryn was going to be the next king. The Arryns needed the Tullys.

Keila was on a horse beside her brother, engaging in conversation as they journeyed towards Riverrun.

"It's rumored Lord Tully is one of the finalists for the Hand. It would be wise to get in with them, sister," Mycal prodded casually, knowing that Keila preferred not to talk about the other Lords. "He is one of the kindest Lords out there."

Keila simply laughed, ushering her horse faster. "Kindness doesn't get you anywhere in King's Landing anymore, Mycal. You need a quick wit and an even quicker set of legs."

Mycal grinned, catching up with her easily, galloping at her side. "Whatever you say, my Lady."

She sighed, seeing the massive fortress of Riverrun approaching. Years ago, Keila had been fostered in Casterly Rock, for just two years, an exceptionally short amount of time to be fostered. She hated it there, and wrote back daily asking for her to be relocated. To not harm the Lannisters' pride, Lord Arryn arranged for Asten Stark to replace Keila at Casterly Rock, and her to be transferred to Riverrun. She would be fostered there for an additional three years.

Mycal knew it was a second home to her, and she knew most of the secrets of the place. However, what he knew she loved most of all was the fresh smelling dirt and grass, the freshness of the entire Riverlands. The mountains didn't matter much to them, rather, they thought the Tullys had it best.

Mycal watched as they went down into the ditch that led into the castle. He loved the feeling of the water all around them, but thought that it could be dangerous to anyone who made the Tullys their enemy. They stood at the gates of the castle.

Keila glanced over at Mycal as a minute went by and no one received them. It seemed to be taking more time than it had ever had before at a different place. Eventually, the guards opened the door and allowed them inside. They couldn't see one of the Tullys inside at all. The cool blue walls were comforting; however, they could hear sounds of raised voices from afar.

"I'm so sorry," A woman hurried to them, with copper, curly hair, and startlingly blue eyes. "The Lord Frey is…difficult for my brother to deal with. He'll be with you in a bit."

Airis Tully gave them a warm smile. "Thank you for coming to Riverrun at this short and, quite inconvenient time for you. I'll gladly lead you to the dining room if that is where you'd like to go."

Lady Arryn pondered it for a bit and shook her head. "No, it's fine. I mean, would you like to lead me to your brother and Lord Frey? Perhaps I can help with the impasse."

Mycal nodded. Her sister, forever the mediator. However, the Freys seemed to be a problem that he didn't think she could solve. The Riverlands had always been a tug of war between Frey and Tully, and the Arryns rarely wanted something to do with that. Particularly when an octogenarian like Lord Edder Frey was facing off with someone their age like Augustus.

Mycal followed his sister obediently, but was more cautious than her. A warbling, loud voice was heard from even dozens of feet away, while the calmer voice of Augustus Tully was largely absent from the conversation. That fit what he'd always heard about Lord Tully – he preferred to listen first and then act. The door was pushed open gently and softly, revealing two figures.

Lord Edder Frey had greying hair and a sullen face. He had a red face – presumably from yelling. His wife, maybe half his age or more, sat beside him. He barely remembered her, but she had been an Arryn. Maude, he believed her name was, was a whole 8 years older than himself, and had left when he was just 8. She was quiet as a mouse, as if she were afraid what she'd say would make her husband angry. Her wispy blonde hair fluttered around her, and no doubt she was a beautiful woman. However, she seemed to be very repulsed at the very idea of her husband.

On the opposite end of the table was Lord Augustus Tully. With auburn hair and soft, blue-green eyes, he had the image of a river itself. While Lord Tyrell was gorgeous as could be, there was no other word to describe Lord Tully other than beautiful. He had graceful movements and an easy smile. Nonetheless, it didn't seem to be enough to soothe the angry Frey.

"Lord Tully, I digress! The Riverlands need competent leadership. I know that there is a possibility of you serving as Hand. The Freys would gratefully and generously serve as Lords of the Riverlands in your absence." Edder spoke, Mycal cringing as he saw spit flying from his mouth.

Augustus simply sat back in his chair, as if he were pondering it. "I thank you, Lord Frey for your honest and frank words. However, the leadership of the Riverlands is quite safe in Tully hands. If you'd excuse me, I have a pre-set-up meeting with Lady Arryn. Thank you."

Flabbergasted, the Freys left without another word. Keila gave the Frey a sorry smile as she took his seat at the table. Mycal stood behind her simply.

"I am truly sorry that you had to hear that," Lord Tully professed, raking a hand through his reddish hair. "Lord Frey can be…aggravating. I still, must remember to keep my tongue when he's in my presence. It can be hard, and pressing upon me."

Keila felt bad for him, reaching across the table and squeezing his warm hand in hers. Mycal hid a smile, hoping against hope that she'd find out that he was the only Lord that would take care of her well. "Lord Augustus, I was wondering if the King had been up to the Riverlands in the recent days?"

Lord Tully's atmosphere changed, from sunny to gloomy in a matter of seconds. "Only once. To pass through to Casterly Rock."

"Oh," Keila squeaked, not having anticipated that answer. "I'm sorry – is that what you expected?"

"No, not at all. It's not your worry though, King's Landing is an absolute mess. I hear we're heavily in debt to the Iron Bank of Braavos. Lord Martell has not quenched the King's desire for gold at all. In fact, he has largely turned a blind eye to the King's excesses. I pity the poor fool who will have to manage the treasury under Aeryn," Lord Tully said with a poisonous tone.

It confirmed Mycal's worst fears, Aeryn did not desire someone who would speak back to him, just as hard as he would speak to them. Lord Tully was patient, but had a fierce temper if you crossed him. He wasn't sure that Aeryn would take kindly to a Hand that didn't respect him.

Keila was at a near loss for words as she attempted to think up something. "Who – and – who do you think will be the Master of Coin?"

Augustus slunk back in his chair, appearing like a little kid again. "Whoever gets slighted. If the Lannisters strike out and don't get Queen or the Hand, they'll get it. If they get one, I'd expect it to go to the Tyrells. They seem to be the ones that could end up on the losing end."

There were clatters from outside the dining room. Mycal gripped his sword instantly, running with Lord Tully from the room itself. A figure was crossing to the door, aiming to make it past the guards that stood watch. Cloaked in all black, he was stopped by the guards. Lord Tully led Mycal to where the figure had come from – a hallway that led to the kitchens.

A red paint – maybe blood, was washed upon the rocks of the wall. You're next, it read. Mycal's blood turned to ice. His sister had been the target of an assassination attempt that had killed poor Lady Mormont. Lady Tyrell had been murdered in her own castle. Two days later, a dead body in all-black clothes had been found in Casterly Rock, with an ornate knife stuck in the chest. Arryn, Tyrell, and Tully only had one thing in common: The King's hatred.

"Who are you?" Augustus' voice snapped him back to reality, the blue-cloaked lord rushing towards the figure in black.

"Lysaro, mi 'lord," The man made an exaggerated bow, and spat blood at the Tully's feet.

Airis had slunk back into the room, watching from her spot on the couch. Her brother took up a position above the man. "Who are you paid by?"

"Ah, but if I told you that, I wouldn't get anything from this, would I?" He smiled a sickening smile, his teeth rotten and void in places.

"A deal," Augustus' voice hardened as he stared into the man's eyes. Lysaro nodded.

"How about this: you get to leave with your head on your shoulders, and you tell me who you are. If you do not, your head will be on a pike and thrown out into the river," Augustus' voice was sweet, but held menace in it.

It did little to assuage the concerns of the sell sword. "My head will find itself in worse places than that if it gets out that I told who I was working for."

"Then, what do you suggest?"

"Free passage, and a sword. I wish to go to Pyke. A Tully pass should be enough for them to allow me into the Iron Islands," Lysaro cackled, knowing he would be out of the reach of any in Westeros if necessary.

"Brother, don't," Airis cautioned, getting up and rushing to her brother. "It's possible there's more to come. We cannot risk him in Pyke."

Keila was watching, interested, wondering what the Lord Tully's decision would be.

"That…can be arranged," Lord Augustus said. "Of course, it can."

The man leaned in and whispered it into the Tully's ear. Instantly, his face turned pale and gaunt. It seemed like the youthful man had aged fifty years. The knowledge perhaps was too much for him to know.

"Who?" Keila asked finally, as the guards hauled the man away.

"It is my curse alone to bear the one's name who did this. I will deal with this. I'm sorry, Lady Arryn, but I must be off." He rushed from the room, as Mycal stood there, bemused.

Airis was unhappy, and approached the guards. "Toss him in the river,"

"Wait," Keila said, taking a step forward. "You promised to send him to Pyke."

"I promised nothing, I might remind you," Airis said. "And I am sending him to Pyke. He can swim to the Iron Islands or bid passage from the Lannisters for all I care. Print him a pass, and toss him in the river. It is his fault that he did not clarify how he gets to Pyke."

The guards did as she wished, despite Lysaro's protests. Keila watched in horror as the man struggled to stay up even in the calmness of the Riverlands' rivers. Mycal turned her away, back towards their horses. It was time…time to go to King's Landing.

 _ **A/N: Thank you all for reading! I love hearing your reviews, I treasure all of them. The next chapters will be based around and in King's Landing for the most part. Most of the intros are done, and we're ready to start the bulk of the story.**_


	7. Chapter 6: Coronation Day

_**Chapter 6: Coronation Day**_

 _ **King's Landing, Westeros**_

 _ **Seat of House Targaryen**_

Featured Characters- Augustus Tully, Greyjoys, King Aeryn, Kivan Lannister, Alysanne Lannister, Leone Lannister, Celesse Martell, Margarette Tyrell, Rewyn Tyrell, Maude Frey, Dylan Stark, Asten Stark

 _ **POV Lord Asten Stark**_

"Lord Stark," The squire at the front of the room bowed. "Welcome to the Red Keep and the King's Coronation. We are delighted to have you in attendance. Of course, we ask that you deposit your weapons in the bin."

Asten took a sideways look at his brother before putting his various knives and his axe in it. He'd never gone anywhere without a weapon, and to be this close to disaster it seemed unwise to give it up. However, rules were rules, apparently. As he walked into the room, various Lords and Ladies were milling about, trying to find their seats.

"Asten, I'm here," Dylan told him, finding his placard at the back of the room. "You're not, though."

He took careful steps, the heat of the room nearly unbearable in his various coats and cloaks. He checked every row, the people always turning silent as he approached theirs. He cursed in his head when he found none until he reached the 2ndrow. Leone Lannister, Margarette Tyrell…Asten Stark. He took the card and set it in his pocket, settling down into the rather comfy chair.

The Iron Throne sat at the head of the room, the sunlight glinting off of its various metals. He couldn't help but notice that some of the Houses looked at it with a desire in their eyes. They should be more careful. In particular, the Lannisters, Tyrells, and Martells couldn't hide their desire to sit upon it. Unfortunately, he was seated by many of them.

He was the first in his row to take a seat. He peered over the edges of the chairs to take a look at who was sitting in the front row. His grandmother, the Queen, took up the immediate spot in front of him. Augustus Tully, Kivan Lannister, Rewyn Tyrell, Alysanne Lannister, Astris Baratheon, and the King's father took up the rest of the seats.

Slowly, people trickled in. He gave a hint of a smile to Augustus when Lord Tully arrived, taking his seat a few spots away from him. Soon, people were getting into his own row as the major Houses arrived. Two spots to his right, Luwyn Martell took his place, and his sister the one right next to Asten. It was a remarkable difference – Luwyn was tall, not as tall as Asten himself, but Celesse was markably shorter than the two of them.

"Lord Stark," Lady Martell said, shaking his hand. "An honor, truly. I haven't seen you in years, now you're all grown up."

Despite being nearly the same age, he'd never really dealt with Celesse Martell. He'd heard stories of course, nothing more than a casual rumor, but it seemed like he shouldn't dismiss her. "You haven't grown much," Asten said before he could think of the words that came out of his mouth.

Luckily, Lady Martell giggled and threw her hair back. "I didn't take Lord Stark for a joker."

"He's not." Lord Tully interjected from his spot in the front, giving Celesse a knowing grin.

Their conversation died out when the people they'd somewhat hoped wouldn't show up did. Lord Kivan Lannister, the eldest of the Lannister siblings, led his two younger ones behind him. His head was straight up, heading straight for the front row as if he had no doubt that's where he'd be seated. His meek younger brother took a seat in their row, simply nodding at Asten and the Martells. Their sister sat beside the Queen, who had been one of the earliest to arrive.

No conversation flowed, only short snippets between Lord Lannister and Lord Tully. Luckily, the Tyrells were soon to arrive. Margarette took a seat by him, while Rewyn sat in the front as well. It was surprising to see Lord Tyrell put in the front when, allegedly, he wasn't in the running for Hand. The absence of Queen candidates in the front also didn't help Asten's logic.

He reached behind him to take off his coats and shawls, getting too hot in the summer breeze. He flinched when he felt a hand help him.

"It's okay," Lady Martell whispered, slowly pulling them off his shoulders.

"Thank you," He said curtly when she got a few of them off. She nodded.

A hush fell over the crowd as a man took up post at the head of the room. Platinum blonde hair, a slim figure – the King's father. "I would like to welcome you all to King's Landing. Today, we celebrate. Tomorrow, we conduct the tournament in the King's honor. To those taking part – Lord Tyrell, Lord Tully, Lord Lannister, Lord Martell, Lady Martell, Lord Hightower, Lord Baratheon, and Lord Stark, we thank you. The winner is entitled to a prize, though we haven't figured it out yet."

Asten was confused, he hadn't signed up for any tournament. He turned around and looked at Dylan, who looked as perplexed as he felt. He noticed Lord Frey and his wife hobbling in late, taking their seats by Dylan.

"Now, I would like to welcome the next King of Westeros – Aeryn, first of his name," A door opened from the front of the room.

The Martells and Margarette craned their necks to get a sight of the King, while Asten sat back in his chair. It didn't matter to him what was said or what went on. It simply mattered what he did.

The King looked regal in his ceremonial garb, standing in front of the Iron Throne. His father slowly approached, settling the crown on his head. When he took his seat on the throne, it was official.

Clapping ensued, and Asten looked to see who wasn't. Lord Tyrell sat still, as did Lady Baratheon. Lord Lannister was the one who surprised him, who was just staring ahead blankly, as if he hadn't realized that it was going to happen.

"Ladies, Lords, thank you for being here today," King Aeryn spoke softly, but his voice carried remarkably well. "We approach a new chapter in our lives here in Westeros. We face many challenges – wildlings up north, rumors of Free City raids in the south, and the ever-shifting alliance pyramid here in King's Landing."

Lord Stark took it as a veiled threat – the King was at the top, and no one else should pretend that they are, is how he interpreted it. The offended look on Lord Lannister's face confirmed that he was not the only one with that belief.

"Those challenges will be solved. I will give a decree that the local armies should start sending men to King's Landing to form a royal army. Only then can we face these challenges," The King spoke.

Bemused looks crossed from person to person. They'd never needed a Royal Army. The Lords and Ladies were expected to help when they needed it, but never give up control to someone they didn't need to. The Night's Watch was not under any supervision or under the orders of the Crown. It seemed the King was making a bet that no House would speak out. He was wrong.

It was all too quick to notice, but surprisingly, a few people from the back of the room walked out. "Who?" Lady Martell whispered in his ear.

"Greyjoys," Margarette Tyrell interjected. "It was the Greyjoys."

If it bothered King Aeryn, it didn't seem to show. "Enjoy the festivities." More clapping.

The room drained, and Lord Stark made sure he was one of the first out of the room. He ran down the streets, approaching where the tournament was to be held. The sun beat down on his pale skin, the heat getting to him even though he was in a flimsy long sleeve shirt.

 _Round 1 (Tomorrow):_

 _8AM- Lord Rewyn Tyrell vs. Lord Oliver Martell_

 _9AM- Lord Augustus Tully vs Lord Kenric Baratheon_

 _10AM- Lord Kivan Lannister vs Lady Celesse Martell_

 _11AM- Lord Ramsay Hightower vs Lord Asten Stark_

It confirmed what he'd suspected. He hadn't signed up, and he doubted that Lord Baratheon had signed up. The others were all fairly reasonable, all seeming like they would even without prodding from the palace. He began to piece together why he and the Lord Baratheon might be forced into it.

The King wanted all the Lords and Ladies present for when he would choose a Hand. The Starks and Baratheons expected little from that announcement, so he forced them into a tournament so they would stay. It was an interesting way to do it. Unfortunately, Asten hadn't planned to stay in King's Landing. Dylan was staying with the Arryns somewhere on the city outskirts, but Asten didn't want to be rude and butt in.

He took a walk around King's Landing. He observed the old sculptures, the old buildings, the old streets. People were set up on streets trying to sell their various goods. He bought a sleeveless shirt for the next day. Damn it, he thought. My weapons are still at the palace.

Asten didn't want to go back there, so he planned to go get them the next morning before he had to appear at the tournament. Instead, he tried to plan out where he'd stay. Eventually, he came to where he didn't think he'd be – at the center of town.

He knocked on a wooden door, with a sun carved into it. "Yes?" Came a lilting voice from inside.

"It's Lord Stark," Asten said curtly.

"Oh!" The door swung open, and Celesse Martell gave him a smirk. "What are you here for?"

"I was planning on going home, and now I have nowhere to stay," Asten said, his arms wrapped around his chest. "Unless you're busy, in that case, it's fine, I can go find somewhere else."

"I don't want a poor pup to be staying outside at night," Celesse stepped aside to let him in. "Why aren't you with the Baratheons? I know he was fostered in Winterfell."

"They weren't planning on staying either," Asten said, rubbing his hands against his face. "Otherwise, yes, I'd be there."

"What about the Tullys?" Celesse asked.

She'd got him there. The Tullys were going to stay no matter what, and honestly, he wasn't sure why he'd sought out the Princess of Dorne before going to them. In all honesty, it seemed like he'd just gone with who he'd known when he'd arrived at King's Landing.

"I don't know," He admitted. "You're competing tomorrow?" He changed the subject as he sat down on a chair inside the Martell compound.

"Yes," Celesse said defensively as she made the bed. "Against who? I didn't go down to check."

"Kivan Lannister," Asten replied.

The look on her face changed, turning to a bit of fear. "L-Lannister?"

"You'll do fine, Lady Martell. Keep quick and moving, and eventually he'll tire." Asten said to her.

"You don't get it," Celesse said as she peered out the window. Dusk was settling into night, the moon fully in the air. "The Lannisters will cheat to win. They don't care who they go against. He wants to use this as proof he is the best Hand out there. He'll try to wipe the floor with me."

Asten got up, his calloused hands gently gripping her shoulders. "It's against the rules to kill someone in the tournament. Especially a Lady."

Celesse looked over her shoulder at the Northerner. "What if his sword 'slips'?"

"I doubt he'd let it slip against you, Lady," Asten replied honestly. "More likely against Lord Tully or Tyrell. If he did, everyone would be up in arms. I find it incredibly unlikely that would happen."

It seemed he'd played into her game, he realized, as her hand gently drifted to his arm. "And do you have a place to stay all week?"

"No," He said, closing his icy blue eyes as her gaze wandered.

"Take the bed," Celesse said as she walked from him. "I need to bathe anyways." When she disappeared into the wash room, Asten peeled off the undershirt and crept into the bed. Upon waking up, he saw fire.

 _ **A/N: Sorry for the wait! This last week has been fairly busy, and I hadn't been able to get a solid thought down for this chapter. Now that we've got the ball rolling, I think we can see another chapter sometime this week, but I'm not promising anything. Thank you for all the kind reviews! Hope you liked it!**_


	8. Chapter 7: Tea Time

**_Chapter 7: Tea Time_**

 ** _King's Landing, Westeros_**

 ** _Seat of House Targaryen_**

 ** _Featured Characters: King Aeryn, Astris Baratheon, Celesse Martell, Margarette Tyrell, Alysanne Lannister, Keila Arryn, Airis Tully, Maude Frey, Greyjoys_**

 ** _POV Keila Arryn_**

Her fingers shook as she held the little card in her hands. An ornate, little greeting card, no bigger than her palm, an invitation. The King had invited the ladies of highborn origin to the palace for tea in the nighttime, after all of the tournament rounds were over.

Keila hadn't bothered to attend, she didn't need to see the lords gloat about who was the most prominent with their swords. By word of mouth she'd heard that the Stark, the Martell lord, the Lannister, and the Tully had won their successive rounds. Only one of those she really cared for.

Her grandmother had attempted to sway her to try and be friends with the King. Funny how assassination attempts change your perspective. Now, she wanted nothing more than to leave the capital, but as the only prominent Arryn, she could not until other lords and ladies began to leave. Certainly, she couldn't leave before he chose a Queen.

It was dark, the dimly lit streets making her feel no better as she walked towards the Red Keep. Other ladies were entering as well, but she didn't want much to do with any of them. She wrapped her arms around her chest, the cool breeze too much for her flimsy garment. Her dark hair was a mess of braids, the work of the younger maids who felt like they should live through her. They thought it was an honor to marry a King. Keila preferred to call it a curse.

The guards bowed to her as she entered into the keep. It was a horrifying place really, she would never like to spend any time there. It was so dark, moist, and gave off a gloomy vibe. Nevertheless, she followed the maid towards the massive table where they'd be seated. The real game of thrones was going on between the ladies.

Alysanne Lannister, the baby of the family, was the clingiest to the King. Her arm was wrapped securely into his. Her golden hair fell down her back. She was beautiful, in her own way, but not what Keila thought would constitute the word gorgeous. That was left to the other ladies.

Celesse Martell, who had just fought that morning, had a cut on her cheek from her scrape with Kivan Lannister. However, it didn't diminish her beauty any. She had on a dress that reminisced of Dorne, a sunset array of colors, with some of those colors weaved into her hair. Not the eldest Martell, but the most prized by her father. Favored by those who were most important in Dorne, she was placed above her elder brother. She was seated to the King's left, but seemed to have little patience for the petulant ruler.

Margarette Tyrell was seated across from the King, her curly brown hair like the earth of the Reach. Her fingers were porcelain, cleverly placed on the table in front of her, as if drawing the King towards her without any action. A tiny smile was hiding on her face as well, the bare glimpse of it striking fear into Keila's heart.

Astris Baratheon was to Margarette's left. By far the smallest of the bunch, her swirling yellow dress highlighted what it needed to – her family's prominence. The Baratheons, after the War of the Five Kings, had fallen out of favor with the Targaryens. However, with years of hard work and dedication, they had risen again. Astris was their crown jewel. Black curls falling effortlessly onto her shoulders, there was more to her than what met the eye.

Airis Tully was the last one. One of the tallest of the ladies there, she had copper hair that suited her realm as well. Dark blue eyes that seemed to hide the game she was playing. To Tyrell's other side, she also was positioned as close to the King as would be possible. Her eyes watched Keila as she came in, as if bidding her silence for what had happened at Riverrun.

These women were here to play the game, and to play it well. Keila was here to get it over with and leave. Sure, she would find a boy sometime, but not now, not this quickly. They were all ready to fall heads over heels in with the King if he asked. They were all dangerous in their own way, and could probably order her dead if necessary. She felt comfortable sitting next to none of them, but she needed to choose a seat.

Eventually, she settled down to Astris' right, a fair distance away from the King. She took a deep breath as other ladies, less prominent ones, filled in the other seats. A wisp of a woman, Maude Frey, sat down beside her.

The Frey was nearly a fourth of her husband's age, and looked like she had inherited it. Wispy silver-white hair, still beautiful, but on her face, you could tell she had aged a thousand years at the Twins. She was dead silent as she sat there, never once offering to speak with the Arryn, preferring to sip her tea in silence.

"Welcome," The King proclaimed, more servants coming in to refill tea that needed to be refilled. "To the Red Keep. One of you may be lucky enough to call it home within a few weeks' time."

A few of the girls shared knowing glances with one another – with allies, with enemies, it didn't matter to them. They each obviously thought they would be the ones to sit next to him on the Iron Throne. No matter, to Keila, it seemed like most weren't in the running anyway. It became apparent that the King had no use to talk to many of the ladies that were there.

The idealistic ones, lower-born ladies hoping for a jump to prominence, egged on conversation. Only one really caught her eye.

"I saw a fire last night down in the city," A lady said. She seemed to be from a lower house, maybe in the Crownlands. "What was that all about?"  
Something shifted in the King's demeanor as his eyes flashed. "It was nothing. Just a small fire."  
Lady Martell began to speak, "It was right outside of where I was staying. It was where the Greyjoys were sleeping. Luckily none of them got hurt, but it certainly could have. It wasn't an accidental fire, is what I've heard."

Keila braced herself for the King to lash out, but he didn't. He let Celesse handle the conversation as he ate one of the little crackers on his plate. Interesting, Keila thought.

He dismissed all the ladies after dinner – except those that Keila believed were in the running to be Queen.

"Thank you all for coming. Ladies Lannister, Tyrell, Baratheon, Martell, Tully…and Arryn, would you stay for a few moments longer?" The King's silvery hair was accented perfectly by the moonlight.

They all agreed, Keila with the most hesitation. They followed him into a sitting room that adjoined where they'd dined. Her fingers were fiddling with the edges of her skirt, wanting out of the lion's den.

"It is no secret that you all wish to become Queen," The King cleared the air. "I still have made no decision. But, a series of questions should help me make that decision. If you all would be as kind as to answer my inquiries, then you may go home."

They all gave a short nod, and it surprised her that Lady Baratheon was looking on edge, sitting down in her own chair rather than on the couch with the rest of them.

The King was standing above them, looking regal in his cape and tight-fitting outfit. He wasn't bad looking, even could be classified as handsome – were it not for his fits of rage.

"How would you expect to conduct business inside of King's Landing?" He asked simply. "No official order, speak when you're ready."

Alysanne said, "However you wish, my King."

Celesse replied after, taking a few moments to think over her answer. "With the dignity that my house has taught me."

"I would consult before I made a unilateral decision, your grace," Tyrell said.

Tully nodded simply after the Tyrell had answered, not preferring to deviate from someone else's script.

Keila spoke, seeing that the Baratheon was taking a long while to think over her answer. "How my grandmother would've conducted herself."

Astris was the last to speak. "I would conduct myself how I see fit." The unexpected fire in her eyes surprised Keila.

The King gave a simple nod, walking about the room in a slow circle. "And if the priorities between your house and the throne were different, what would you do? Say a rebellion would rise, and your…brother chooses to side with them over me, how would you respond?"

Lannister, Tyrell and Tully each assured him that it would never happen with their houses. Celesse said that she would back him, as she was confident all of Dorne would as well. Keila replied that she had no blood family to worry about, and that House Arryn would be under her control. Once again, the Baratheon surprised.

"My family means everything to me." Is all she said.

She was rapidly losing favor with the King, Keila could see it in his eyes that he was getting irritated with her answers.

"If you are not picked, your House will not swear retribution on the Crown?"

They all readily said they would not.

"Thank you, you may take your leave," The King said. All the girls left together, or at least Keila thought.

As she walked, she noticed one was missing. She began to count. Martell, Tyrell, Lannister, Tully, Arryn. Astris was missing. Did the King keep her at the Keep? She was confident that the Baratheon simply wouldn't disappear just because of that, either the King was dumber than she'd thought, or he was pressing her to make a different choice of words.

 ** _Part 2 of Chapter 7_**

 ** _Featured Characters: Asten Stark, Augustus Tully, Kivan Lannister, Rewyn Tyrell, Oliver Martell_**

 **POV Rewyn Tyrell**

He proudly hopped around the day after his sister returned from the castle. She said the meeting with the King had went well, and expected to be called back shortly thereafter. Instead, when the King's messenger came the next day, he was asking for Rewyn to journey to the palace.

He had dressed in his finest clothes: a white suit with green embroidery, his bright blonde hair combed loosely as to not lose some of himself. A knife was tucked securely into his belt, and a leaf from home was stuck in his pocket.

Rewyn had never liked the seriousness of the capital, or of all its games that they played here. He had only been a few times, and had always snuck out at night to do something more fun than listen to a bunch of crotchety old men talk politics. Now, he understood its significance and what he needed to do to keep his House in the running for Hand or for Queen. He needed to play his part well and to a point.

He walked to the Keep, the second time for a Tyrell this week. His footsteps were quiet, having learned to stress the quietest points on his feet when he walked as to avoid detection. The doors of the Keep opened when he arrived.

Two were already there, sitting in seats in the sitting room. The King stood before them. Kivan Lannister, the eldest of the Lannister clan, and Asten Stark, the same for his family. Two wildly different people, and very different from himself as well.

Lord Stark was stocky and muscular, with jet black hair that was fairly long and tangly. Lord Lannister had neatly combed, short golden hair. His own was blonde as well, but a brighter blonde, one that was longer than the Lannister's.

"My King," Rewyn dropped into an elaborate bow, his eyes twinkling as he looked up at the man. He had silver hair and a thin build, watching him carefully.

"Lord Tyrell, I'm glad you could make it. We're waiting on a few others before we can begin. Lords Stark and Lannister can keep you company."

It was like walking into a pit of vipers. Rewyn was no friend of either, besides he barely knew the Stark well enough to make any opinion whatsoever. He took a seat in a chair that was set up beside it. The Keep opened its doors only once more, when the Lord Tully and Lord Martell arrived.

It was obvious that Oliver Martell had a busy life. Scars were on his face and neck, all the exposed skin. He'd always heard that he'd done missions in the Stepstones and in Essos when necessary. Rewyn had only been to Essos once, and it had been to Braavos, not really one of the more dangerous parts.

"Now that you're all here, I have an announcement to make," The King said, staring ahead at them. "The Hand of the King and all relevant titles have been chosen."

Rewyn was confused, crossing his legs on his seat. He'd never really been told that he was even being considered, so he didn't have a lot of hope.

"Lord Lannister, would you do me the honor of serving as my Hand?" The King offered the golden token to him.

Rewyn was quick to react, giving a bright and beaming smile, a fake one at that. He carefully watched the other Lords. Asten Stark looked like he'd just swallowed something unpleasant, holding the arm of his chair tightly so his knuckles turned bright white. Martell was intrigued, relaxing back into his chair as he watched them. Tully had a look of disbelief on his face, sharing a look with Stark.

"I am honored, my King. I accept," He took the golden token and pinned it on his lapel.

"For the rest of you," The King looked at them. Now, it seemed like the power in the room had abruptly shifted.

"I have a few more powers to give out." The King said, looking at all of them. "Master of Coin, chiefly. Lord Tully, I would be honored if you would serve as Master of Coin."

Augustus looked taken aback, but gave a brief nod. "Of course, my King."

"Lord Martell," The King got his attention. "I would be honored if you'd serve as Master of Whisperers. For your honorable service in Essos and all that, you would be my first choice."

Oliver proudly agreed.

"Lord Tyrell." Rewyn looked up in anticipation. "For you, I offer the title of Master of Ships. We have recently been touring the Reach, and we are very impressed by the navy there. I would be honored if you would accept."

"I do." Rewyn said simply, watching as nothing was offered to the Lord Stark.

They were all informed of the date at which the small council were to be convened for the first time. There were three others they did not know of yet – the Grand Maester, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard (for he had retired after Aerys' death), and Master of Laws.

 ** _A/N: Thank you all for your patience! I needed a lot of time to think about this chapter, and I finally got it written. If you have any preference about who your people will maybe be interested in getting with, please PM me otherwise I'll do it myself :) Thank you and have a great weekend!_**


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